Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Guess my fucking luck just ran out.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a pregnant ol’ lady to be watching over?” My question comes out harsher than intended. Annoyance over the lecture Grinder had given me at Teller’s wedding must still be stirring in my brain. Thankfully, Grinder ignores my attitude.
“She’s with Lilly,” he explains, picking up his brush again and tapping off the excess paint.
“They seem to have gotten tight.” Z’s wife always liked Serena. Now that Grinder’s the SAA at our downstate charter, the four of them probably double-date for all I know.
He nods. “I think Lilly’s as excited about the baby as we are.”
Uncomfortable with the subject, I blurt out, “I ran into Emily this morning. Had to give her a ride to work. Her car broke down.”
Grinder frowns and sets his paint brush on the edge of the can. “She all right?”
“She’s fine. Griff’s gonna take a look at the car and let me know what it needs.” I hold up my hands to ward off any questions. “Don’t worry. I said I’d give her a ride home from work tonight. I won’t leave a friend of the club stranded.”
“Didn’t think you would.” His hard eyes drill into me. “Sounds like you’ll be spending some time—”
“Easy, Grinder. It’s just a few rides. Out of necessity. Nothing more.”
He shrugs. “Great relationships have started with less.”
“Great relationships?” Who is this man? “What are you, a dating coach now?”
He grumbles something and shakes his head. “Thanks for doing that for her.”
“No need to thank me, brother.” I shift from foot to foot. “I couldn’t leave her stranded in a cemetery, for fuck’s sake.”
“Where did…?” His question dies as he realizes what that means.
“Let it go,” I warn, not that he gives a fuck about a warning from me. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“You know what they say about rusting or riding?” Grinder asks. He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. “You can either rust out from doing nothing or wear out from living life.”
“I’ve heard variations of that line forever,” I answer cautiously. “Usually from you.”
“It’s deeper than that,” he continues. “You know what destroys iron? Itself. Rust. People aren’t that much different. Loneliness is a rust on the heart.”
“Who’s lonely? I’m surrounded by people all day, every day.” I narrow my eyes and cock my head. “My life is full of nosy-ass brothers who dissect my life whenever I voice a thought.”
One corner of Grinder’s mouth twitches. “I’ve known you since you were a boy, Dixon.”
“Hardly.” I snort.
“My heart, all our hearts, hurt for you when Debbie died.”
My entire body stiffens. Pain prickles over my scalp.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he adds.
“The fuck it wasn’t,” I mutter.
“You were a prospect, so I didn’t know you as well as I could have—”
“It was a fucked-up time for the club in general,” I add, praying to steer him off the conversational path he seems determined to forge.
“But Debbie seemed like a sweet girl.” He tilts his head, inviting me to follow him away from the door in case it swings open again. “You two were young, but anyone in your presence could feel the love you had for each other.”
“What’s your point?” I spit, nearing the end of my patience.
“Would she want you to live like this? Alone?”
“Again,” I answer with exaggerated patience, “where did you get the idea that I’m alone?”
“You’re not a pump, dump, and run kind of guy. Never were.”
“People change. I don’t need complications in my life. Just a warm body every now and then is enough.”
“Complications.” He scoffs. “You don’t want to love someone and risk losing them again.”
“Fine. Yeah. You got me. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s gonna put you in an early grave.”
“Good,” I blurt. My eyes widen. It’s a thought I’ve never spoken aloud before. Only I know that each time one of my brothers gets hurt or injured, I ask the universe why the fuck it won’t take me instead.
He nods. “You wanna punish yourself for Debbie’s death.”
“And our daughter’s,” I rasp. People always forget. Two scars are etched into my soul. Not one.
He winces then reaches out to clasp my shoulder. “No one should have to suffer that kind of loss, brother.”
I swallow hard but a response eludes me. Tumbling back in time to those memories pounds a nail through my heart. Not as sharp as it once was, but still painful.
“From what I understand, Emily has had her own losses.” His shoulder hitches. “Maybe—”
“What?” I sneer. “We can heal each other?”
“Don’t be so dismissive.” His phone buzzes and he pulls it out, checking the text. A faint smile crosses his face.
I could make a crack about how much more comfortable he seems with technology since he got released from prison and discovered you could hold the whole wide world in the palm of your hand in the form of a smartphone. But as much as he’s pissed me off today, that seems like too much of a low blow.